


To My First Kill.

by calystegiia



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Gen, that's catch 22 based kinda stuff. a little vague and vent based but we groovin.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calystegiia/pseuds/calystegiia
Summary: the most profound and unique philosophy cannot capture the grief in the first death of a child.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	To My First Kill.

**Author's Note:**

> its called i am not working on my editing for the other chapter of lattice because i dont want to edit 10,000 words. very vague and vent based, hope you like it anyway

Tucked in the back of the church, he confesses to his first kill. His hands clasped over his mouth as the words spill out, a makeshift bag as his chest heaves. The space between his lungs is cramping, his breaths are shorter—he thinks he’s dying. 

Guilt. Committing a specific or implied offensive crime. Guilt. The lingering and aching pain, taking the blame for a cruel act. A feeling of remorse, of sin, of wrongdoing. It's everything and anything Heat knows now. 

Other confessions of guilt are done in front of his mirror as water fills the sink. He will try and drown himself, holding his face in the water until his chest is screaming and his eyes burn. It will always fail, but he thinks that it’s a deserved punishment. He took her life, and with that his final killing should be of his own blood. Her face often slips his mind, too often it seems, and he feels guilty for not thinking of her whenever he wakes up. The world will keep turning and with that he grows up. Able to continue to live without allowing every second of everyday plagued with an illness, it’s unfair. He’s guilty. The water spills from the sink and rushes onto the floor in rivers. There are bags under his eyes, he’s tired. But he holds his breath and goes back in.

He wakes up covered in sweat now, his eyes burn from the lack of sleep and his behavior is irritable. More often than not, his mother receives a phone call, another act of violence toward a classmate that lands him in the principal's office that gets him picked up early from school. She doesn’t say anything to him about it, just grips the steering wheel in her hands till her knuckles turn white. Her hands look smaller than they used to, that through paper thin skin the spiderwebs of veins bulge out. 

O’Brien hides under the bed when they fight now. There is no attempt to shelter him from the noise. They fight openly, screaming and cursing, the rise and fall of a masculine voice. And with the slamming of a door, O’Brien began to understand what it meant to be in love. That as quickly as the flame enters the world burning intensely, enough to bring his sister and himself into the world—it can burn out.

Eventually, his mother comes up to check on him, and she patiently sits on the floor, waiting for him while he crawls out. Side by side, they sit in silence. Heat does not comment on her tears, instead he sits there with her, clasping his hands in prayer till his knuckles turn white.


End file.
